


We'll Dance On Top Of Cars

by my_inked_asterism



Series: Bedzone series [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Mentioned Scott McCall, Missing Scene, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Season/Series 06, Stydia Secret Valentines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_inked_asterism/pseuds/my_inked_asterism
Summary: Now, as he stays there on the edge of her bed, her back pressed slightly against his chest and sitting between his parted legs, Stiles starts slowly combing her curls making them wavy as he knows she loves them and thinks that all he ever wanted in his life after all, is being able to see them getting silver by his side.“Mm, you’re good at this.” Lydia’s moan brings him back to her.“Among many other things.”—or the smutty pre-prom drabble no one has hopefully written yet





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stydiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stydiot/gifts).



> Special thanks to Susana ( [you-make-me-wander](https://you-make-me-wander.tumblr.com/) ) for her amazing beta work, you know you can always count on me babe <3
> 
> and thank you Sanya ( [killianjonec](https://killianjonec.tumblr.com/) ) for reading this for first and always supporting me with my writing, i love you sis
> 
> Title is from “Wings” by Birdy

**[6.38 PM] Stiles:** babe get down, i’m here

**[6.45 PM] Lyds** : Still halfway with my hair, help me?

**[6.46 PM] Stiles:** come  & get me 

**[6.48 PM] Lyds:** Car or bedroom? 

  
Stiles is about to type the reply, a playful smirk already formed on his face, when he hears the familiar squeak of the front door signaling him it’s been unlocked.  With the corners of his mouth still turned upwards, Stiles quickly climbs off the jeep and gets in, heading to Lydia’s room.

The white wooden door is left ajar and even from outside he can glimpse the elegant silhouette of his girlfriend facing the closet. By the time he’s inside, Lydia has her bare back turned to the mirror of the inner shutter, body slightly arched in order to reach for the zip above her ass, revealing in the process her spectacular cleavage that she definitely hadn't bothered to hide that much anyway. 

She doesn't have the time to face him completely before  his hands fold her waist and pulls her closer to him, kissing her gently on her not-yet-colored lips. 

“Hi.” Stiles greets her. 

“Hey.” She smiles, as if she had just been struck by a wrecking ball. “You look handsome.”

Her eyes lower immediately on the white shirt and dark grey pants he’s wearing, taking in all his figure and lingering her hands on his arms at the same time. They stop on his elbows and slowly force him to press her body harder against his. Stiles lets her.

“I wonder why.” He smirks, face buried in the crook of her neck. 

“What can I say, I have good taste in shirts. But,” she adds as she pulls apart a little to check him out, “there are way too many bottoms for my liking.” And as to state so, Lydia unbuttons his collar with a quick and expert move. 

“It’s a prom Lyds, not a strip party.” 

“Well, with a glass or two of vodka it can easily turns out like both.” 

“You’re incredibly naughty tonight, Martin.” 

Lydia chuckles in response and kisses him heatedly, before turning around to face the mirror again and moving her long straight and strawberry blonde hair to her front. 

“Can you help me with the zip please?” She says through her shoulder, her voice sounding slightly malicious.

“Reluctantly…” 

Stiles slowly traces the curves of her spine as he closes the dress, fingertips brushing her smooth skin as his eyes take the time to count one by one every tiny freckle that map her as a constellation. He catches little goosebumps forming on her arms at his touch, her back arches following his hand until it finally finds her neck, where it lingers for a while, drawing small circles with his thumb right above her pulse. 

  
He places a chaste kiss on her neck and whispers, “what do I do?” 

Lydia shakes her head at the sound of his voice, her head tilted unconsciously by one side to let him room. 

“Uhm right. My hair.” 

As she separates from him, Lydia rapidly crosses the room with two strides and reaches for something on her vanity he can't distinguish initially. Only when she finally turns around he sees her handing a iron curling and pointing it towards him as a sort of sword.

Stiles can't help the laugh, “you tell me you trust me to work your hair with that thing?” 

“Do I need to blackmail you in order to have a good hairdo?” 

“Mm what kind of blackmail?”

“No sex for–”

“You won.” 

Lydia lets out an amused huff as she sits down on the bed, holding the curling iron in one hand and waiting for him to take it while with the other one she starts unzipping her beauty-case and taking out her rimmel. 

He gets to her in an instant grabbing the metallic stick and turning it on as Lydia carefully brings her hair behind her shoulders. He watches the ginger cascade falling on her now-covered back, the beautiful contrast it makes with the black leather dress she’s wearing and that fits her so perfectly, tight on her torso so that it highlights the curves of her waist and hips and then falling loose on her pale thighs. 

It’s just a fusion of colors - the red of her lips, the freckles and hair, the black of her dress, the porcelain white of her skin, not to mention the stark green of her eyes - that’s totally mind blowing every time Stiles sees her. 

No matter how much he tries, there’s no way he will ever get used of her beauty, he thinks as he takes the first strawberry blonde lock and wraps it around the iron. 

There’s something in Lydia’s hair that always made Stiles feel fascinated, kind of hypnotized from the billion of shades it could get. 

It’s like a precious gem that keeps changing color at every environment and age it passes. 

When they were kids Lydia’s hair was lighter, more blonde than red actually, the same dark golden shade it got in summertime as a result of days and months spent in the sea and under the heavy hot sunlight.

It had turned darker in her teens, and fortunately Stiles was there too. Ignored, but present.

He always made sure to sit right behind her in biology, the only one class they took together, with the excuse of being able to stare at the reddish waves of her curls falling down her shoulders. “Strawberry blonde”, he remembers he thought, as the very first ray of sunshine hit her curls and made them shine. 

Strangely enough, he never noticed though the bronze tint it got underwater. It was during their first shower together he had taken a minute to observe for good the wet locks stuck on her breasts, before sucking them both in his mouth. But from that moment on, he always noticed. 

Now, as he stays there on the edge of her bed, her back pressed slightly against his chest and sitting between his parted legs, Stiles starts slowly combing her curls making them wavy as he knows she loves them and thinks that all he ever wanted in his life after all, is being able to see them getting silver by his side. 

“Mm, you’re good at this.” Lydia’s moan brings him back to her.

“Among many other things.” 

“Can't fight this.” She smiles. He can see her smirk from behind her shoulder.

“You know,” Lydia stars again casually, but it catches a small tremble in her tone that alerts him a little, “your hands– I remembered your touch when you were forgotten.” 

His eyes widen, clearly not expecting that because this is actually the first time she confesses such a thing, but still keeps moving his hands lazily on her scalp, brushing the base of her neck every so often.

“You did?”

“Yeah. It was weird though. I remembered them on my face, holding my hands but I couldn't really remember  _ how _ they look like.” She says softly, “ain’t this a pity if you want my opinion.” 

He chuckles and she keeps going on, “I didn't remember your eyes. I had no clue what color they were… i’ve always imagined them to be brown anyway, because every time I thought of you I associated you with warmth, with heat. Well your eyes are not actual brown, they're more like amber, golden sometimes.

“But I remembered your gaze on me, the feeling of safety I had whenever our eyes met.”

Without realizing Stiles’s hands had lowered on her waist and automatically pulls her closer to him as if the vicinity to his body would help her memories to surface. He leans onto her, sucking her softly on her neck and leaving open-mouthed kisses all along her exposed shoulder.

He just wants to thank her, thank her for everything she’s been able to do despite having whole world running against her, against  _ them.  _ He wants to thank her but words aren't enough, there are none strong enough to convey his gratitude, his love for her.

“I remembered your lips,” she continues, a soft groan of pleasure escaping from her lips as he reaches the sensitive spot under her ear. “Your mouth was actually the only one thing i remembered perfectly. Your marked cupid bow, the perfect thin line it turns into when you smile… how soft and _right_ they felt on mine. I remembered  everything I felt that day, and the following day and the day after that because you know – _oh,”_ he bites her earlobe and smirks against her skin at her gasp, “that’s when it all changed.” 

But before he can reply Lydia suddenly turns around and kisses him, passionately but roughly at first, catching his mouth only partly for how quick she had moved. They pull apart, only to collide again and taste each other’s properly this time, mouths anchored to one another as he immediately spins her around completely so that now they're face to face, legs tangled at their sides and hands worshipping the other's body.

“And I missed you  _ so much.” _ Lydia whimpers against his mouth. 

God if he missed her. Without her...without her everything was hollow, he had felt  _ so _ lonely and abandoned a part of him thinks he’ll never be able to recover completely from it. It couldn’t have been better for her.

“I’m here.” He breathes as he slides one hand under her dress, right above her belly. “ _ We _ ’re here.” 

“Make me feel it.”

Because she needs to be reminded of his concrete presence sometimes. She needs his contact, craves it so much Stiles sometimes finds himself thinking without him she would slip away in her nightmares, which he only partly knows how dark they had gotten. She needs his touch to remind herself she’s not an experiment of laboratory, that she’s safe now and no one will hurt her ever again as long as he lives. That he’s not a memory or a fantasy of her deliriums, a result of her ‘fugue states’ , but he’s real and he’s her present and future for as long as she wants him to be.

So Stiles kisses her deeper, tilting her head with one hand while the other lifts her by her ass gently and pulls her on his lap, as he tries to let his feelings pass though those actions, his kisses, his touch. 

“We need to hurry up.” He whispers in her ear as one finger comes to rest above her lacy panties, her covered core feeling wet already. 

“Then stop teasing.” Lydia growls silently in response and as to encourage him to do so, she starts rolling her hips frenetically on his middle, her pussy rubbing against his hardness as her moans increases at every thrust she does. 

“Lydia, you’re so wet already. You’re so wet for me.” He pants and finally gets rid of the material, pulling it aside and cupping her mood fully, massaging him slowly at first then harder in sync with her hips rising his hand. 

“ _ Stiles _ .” She moans. 

Jeez, he loves when she moans his name.

He has no time to reply with such enthusiasm because Lydia immediately pushes him down on the mattress without waiting for him to tug her with him but simply crawling onto his middle and pressing herself against him, forcing him to remain trapped between the sheets and her body. 

He knows he can't take his time to work her now, since they’re probably running out of time, but still, the wide long openings of her dress under her armpits make him possible to sneak his hands inside and palm her breasts, even though not at his best. Stiles doesn't feel like complaining though. 

In response, Lydia bites his lower lip as her hips suddenly make a circular movement that causes him to groan loudly, the feeling of the first precum reaching his spine with a charge of electricity. 

It doesn't take her long to free his cock, lazily stroking it with one hand while the other finds her way back his face as Lydia keeps kissing him fiercely full on his mouth. Stiles immediately cups her jaw, tangling his hand in her hair knowing that it will surely smell like her vanilla shampoo afterwards. 

“Lydia, oh my god–” he jerks violently as her thumb adds pressure to the top of his cock, a drop of cum wetting her palm in alert.

“I want you to come inside of me, Stiles.” She pants heavily on his cheek, unable to hold her head up anymore as if the only feeling of his hotness against her was enough to send her over the edge. “I want you to fill me, want to clench around you.” Her free hand moves to grab his wrist, disentangling his fingers from her now-messy hair and brings it to her clit for good measure, “ _ please _ .”

Will he ever get used of this? 

With his heart pounding fast in his chest, he helps her lift just enough to get inside her core and even through the buzzing of his ears he doesn't miss the whimper escaping from Lydia’s mouth as their bodies join perfectly. 

Her mouth is slightly parted, eyes shut closed as she throws her head behind and supporting herself on his abdomen at every hard and harder thrust she does. Bursts of heat quickly spread from her neck, reaching her already flushed cheeks at once and turning her swollen lips redder. 

Lydia always uses to tell him how vulgar she finds herself when she wears red. She says it makes her look older, and excessively hot, the kind of hotness you feel negatively overwhelmed by.

Stiles has no clue of how hotness could get to overwhelm someone  _ negatively _ . He just knows Lydia Martin looks gorgeous in red, preferably and when he’s the cause of it. 

With a quick movement, Stiles props on his elbows and lifts himself up to catch her lips, hips banging harder because of his sudden push of his. He hugs her tightly, every single spot of their bodies– still covered in clothing because of the hype– is touching and Stiles feels her shaking slightly in his arms, her breathing turning into a fast panting as he fucks her mercilessly and feeling her burning and wetter around him. 

“Oh. My–  _ Stiles. _ ” she whimpers, almost crying in the crook of his neck. 

“Don't stop baby, don't stop,” he encourages her. “Fuck, Lydia you feel so good. You’re so perfect, so fucking  _ beautiful _ .” 

Her moans become shakier, sweat covering her skin and leaving its salty flavour on his lips as he places sloppy kisses on her shoulder, pulling her closer and guiding her move. 

He wants to see her come, he wants to see the green of her eyes turning dark in his amber ones.

So he opens his eyes, his sight is hazy at first for the upcoming climax and the warmth of her core pooling rapidly all over his body. He stares blankly in front of him for a while, eyes slightly blurry.

Then his sight clarifies. His eyes rests on the rounded object on the opposite wall, right in his focal point. A clock. 

**19:39**

“Fuck Lydia!” 

“Yeah, I’m trying!” She pants loud and starts moving faster. 

“We’re late,” his voice is more like a breathing now because hell, he’s  _ so _ close.”We’re gonna be late.” 

She groans half annoyed half frustrated, “then we better hurry up don't we?”

 

They come about fifty four seconds after. Her, biting his shoulder to suffocate embarrassing sounds; him, moaning i love you’s in her ear. 

 

It’s when she shifts back slowly, limbs trembling for the residual of her peak, that she leans onto him once more and kisses him tenderly, lips turned into a smile as she does so, and whispers, “I felt it.” 

 

* * *

**[7:20 PM]** **Scott** : are u guys inside already?

**[7:26 PM] Scott** : where r u?

**[7:29 PM] Scott** : OH NO. NOT AGAIN

**[7:30 PM] Scott** : the bunnies i keep in the clinic have more self control than you

**[7:31 PM] Scott** : i swear if u are late because of the sex i'll kill you bare

**[7:40 PM] Stiles** : rude Scotty 

**[7:41 PM] Stiles** : i’m coming 

**[7:43 PM] Scott** : OF COURSE YOU ARE 

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos are veeery appreciated
> 
> thanks so much for reading xx
> 
> i'm [lydias-martin](https://lydias-martin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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